The Fragile Part 1
by demonchilde
Summary: Chapter 17 uploaded! :)
1. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: I wish that owned Profiler, because if I did it would still be on the air, Sam would still be on and kicking ass, Bailey and her would

be on their fifth date, and Kronish would be sleeping in a cardboard 

box trying to find a job. But as that isn't how it is, NBC, Saunder &

Moses, and that Kronish guy are in charge.

Summary: AU story in which Jack (the real one) is in Macon Federal Pen. PG-13 for some language.

I hate it when Bailey does this to me.

He knows how pissed I get, yet he does it anyway, which pisses me off even further.

When I come up with a definite profile, he insists on being part of the team that brings the suspect in, even though there's no need.

He'd desert me any hour of the day, yet still manage to claim it was for my own safety 

It pisses me off.

Bailey's a good man, there's no denying that. But he should know by now that I'm not an invalid, that I can take care of myself with some degree of success.

It's starting to get dark, and every minute that goes by I get more worried and more angry.

~ Damn it Malone where are you ~ I frown, staring out the window of my hotel room at the fading sunset.

Suddenly, I see a government issue rental car pull into the parking lot below and I sigh in relief. My partner's ok. He's returned to me.

A few minutes later he enters my room wearing a smile that quickly fades when he notices my expression.

"Damn you Bailey, if you ditch me one more time, I'm going to kick you right in the ass."

"Sam-"

"Don't 'Sam' me Malone, because right now I'm in no mood for it,"

I reply angrily, glaring up into his eyes. "How would you feel if I had gone out alone after Jack, huh?"

"But I wasn't alone," Bailey replies gently, quickly trying to defuse the temper tantrum time bomb I've managed to work myself into.

"Damn it, don't you see? It doesn't matter if you're alone or with every single agent the Bureau has to offer! You left me here alone leaving no message or telling anyone where you were going! You should know better than that by now, for Christ's sake!" My lower lip begins to quiver, and I turn away, fighting to keep my composure intact for what I must say next, the same exact words Bailey said to me when Jack had returned from his self-imposed exile.

"I just had to know you were all right." A moment of silence entered the room as my partner recognised the significance of what 

I've just said.

"What's happened, Sam? Something to do with Jack?" I weakly manage a nod before I find myself sitting in a chair.

"I...I got a phone call from the Warden at Macon. Somehow Jack's 

managed to escape from prison."

"No." His voice is flat, a mixture of anger, denial and disbelief. 

"There's no way that bastard could have pulled it off. Not when he's 

On Death Row."

"His disciples got him out, along with some other notable 

prisoners."

"How?"

"They had tons of weaponry…Semi-auto's, tear gas, grenades. Even 

with maximum security, it wasn't hard for them, with the amount of 

stuff they had. Every law-enforcement agency in Georgia is looking for 

them, but..."

"You don't think we'll find him." I lift up my tear-streaked face 

and shake my head.

"I know we won't. At least not until he wants to continue the 

game."

-----------------

The story of Jack's escape is on every station in the country,

even on the radio stations. With a snarl, I turn it off as Bailey and 

I head back to Atlanta, to form a new game plan with the Task Force.

Bailey says nothing during the drive, which leaves us both alone 

with our thoughts. I thought the nightmare was over. After seven long 

years, Jack was behind bars, and I could go on with my life.

I guess I was wrong.

~ Fin


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Well, here is the second part of my story, The Fragile. Any flames, comments, offers of sainthood :) can be sent to [icequeen100@yahoo.com][1]. The character of Fiona belongs to me, but Skinner belongs to Fox, CC and 10:13 productions. Unfortunately, Profiler belongs to NBC/Court TV and Kronish, which is too bad because if I owned it, Bailey and Sam would still be putting the bad guys away…together J (Can't tell I'm an SBR freak, can ya?) And Kronish would be picking up garbage on the side of a road somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

The Fragile Pt.2

Sam is totally silent as we head back to Atlanta. I can't blame her. I should have at least used some of my common sense, but I was in too much of a hurry to catch that scumbag serial racist.

"Sam," I say quietly, "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," She replies softly. "I was worried about you, that's all. When George called me and gave me the news, all I could think about was you. He can't stand you, Bailey, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind eating your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti." I snort at her 'Silence of the Lambs' mention.

"Sam," I say, turning on the radio to a classical station, "When we get back to Atlanta, I want you to stay with me. You'll be safe at my place."

"Bailey, if Fiona gets wind of this-"

"Fiona can kiss my ass. I'm just sorry we weren't able to nail hers to the wall."

"All right then. But whatever happens Malone, I don't want you going after Jack alone. You know what he can do to a person."

"So don't you," I chide her gently. She grunts in agreement and stares gloomily out the window, into the darkness.

"That's different," She says quietly, unconsciously tapping out the rhythm to 'Moonlight Sonata'.

"How so?"

"He doesn't want to kill me, Bailey," Sam replies dryly. "He just wants to possess me."

"In my book, both are just as bad. He got you once, Sam. I can't risk him getting you again. I won't."

"So we're gonna have to wait until he makes his move…continues the game…"

"It certainly looks that way."

Three hours later, we arrive back at the Task Force. John and George are sitting in their seats in the Command Center when we walk in, and by the looks on their faces, it's anything but good news.

"Well Bailey," John begins, taking his feet off the table, "The phones have been ringing off the hook. All the major networks want interviews." 

"Tell them we'll have a news conference first thing tomorrow morning. Are there any leads at all?" George speaks up.

"Grace went over the scene with a fine tooth comb. Found nothing." Sam frowns.

"Nothing? Not even a note?" John shakes his head as our profiler flops down in her own chair.

"Not even with the black light."

I glance at Sam, whose gaze is far away.

"He wasn't expecting this," She murmurs softly. "He'd never pass up the opportunity to brag, but they didn't give him enough time."

"Yeah," George agrees, punching up some information on the jailbreak, "Despite all the firepower they had, it was a fairly clean jailbreak, fast and not too messy."

"We have the rest of the prison in lockdown," John adds, "And the cell that Jack was in has been taped off until you arrive." Too tired to argue, Sam only nods and says nothing.

"What has our lovely Section Chief had to say about it?"

"Nothing much, really. Just trying to reassure everyone that she's going to do her best to catch him reasonably soon."

"-Using this as some kind of goddamn publicity stunt." I raise my eyebrows and glance at Sam, who's tapping her fingers lightly on the table.

"Is she?" I reply mildly, and she nods.

"She's always up to something, Malone. When she isn't trying to make us look bad, she's in Washington trying to get Skinner into bed with her. I mean, come on. The woman's a brown-noser." I had to agree. Fiona didn't like us at all, Sam in particular. But that's another story.

"Sam, for right now, I want you to get some sleep. We'll go to Macon first thing in the morning." She shakes her head in disagreement.

"Bailey, I can't wait that long. You know that." Our eyes meet, and the determination in those icy blue eyes of hers tells me I'd better agree. If I don't, she'll go anyway. 

"All right, Sam. I'll call Macon, tell them you're on your way. But John's going with you."

"Okay then," Sam grabs her stuff as John gets out of his chair. "Let's go." Both agents leave, and I lean back in my chair, contemplating George's sad look.

"What didn't you tell us, George. You left something out."

"…Jack sent Sam an untraceable e-mail. It's…pretty explicit about what his intentions are as far as you and Sam are concerned."

"…Let's see it." George brings it up on his computer, and as I read the message, it becomes all too perfectly clear; Sam and I have never been in this much danger before. Maybe it would have been for the best if I'd never brought her back in from hiding.

~ Fin

   [1]: mailto:icequeen100@yahoo.com



	3. Default Chapter Title

Here's the third part of The Fragile. My writer's block disappeared last night after I uploaded part 2, so hopefully I'll be writing steadily now, instead of in spurts. J

Disclaimer: Profiler unfortunately doesn't belong to me. L It belongs to NBC, Court TV, Sander/ Moses Productions and (gags) Mr. Steven Kronish. If it belonged to me, It would still be on the air, in the top 20. J and yes, I love KoRn. They are awesome. J

And now, onto part three…

The Fragile Pt.3

Sam and I hop into my car and I smoothly pull out of the Task Force parking lot into the light Atlanta night traffic. Sam closes her eyes wearily.

"Didn't get any sleep on the way here?"

"Only about half an hour or so," Sam admits, beginning to yawn.

"Then why don't you get some now? It's a couple hours drive to Macon, and you're gonna need some energy when we get there." She considers my advice and nods.

"You're right. Wake me up when we arrive," Sam says, and within minutes she's fast asleep.

"I glance over at her sadly, thinking of all the stuff she's had to go through. Sam has got to be one of the toughest people I know. Having to deal with a serial killer murdering your husband and stalking you while you're trying to raise a little girl isn't something most people could deal with on a daily basis. But somehow she managed to do it, and admirably.

The radio station I'm listening to begins to talk about the daring escape, and I immediately change the station. 'Make me Bad' by KoRn is playing, and I absently begin to tap my fingers to the beat on the steering wheel as my thoughts turn back to my sleeping passenger.

I remember when I first met her. God, I was such an asshole, getting on her case about her profile of that female serial killer…and then of course having to deal with Bailey banging down my door and reaming me out a new asshole about having George do a background check on her didn't help any.

Sam shifts in her seat and mutters sleepily as I smile to myself, stepping on the gas and leaving Atlanta behind.

Two hours later, on the outskirts of Macon, we reach a roadblock. I've gone through one already, but apparently the concept of radioing ahead to let any of the other cops know we're coming is a foreign concept. With a sigh, I slow down then come to a complete stop directly behind one of the two squad cars blocking the road. Sam groans, waking herself up.

"We're not there yet." Stretching, she lets out a yawn.

"No. They've set up roadblocks. We should be there soon." Sam nods as one of the cops swaggers to my driver's side window, which I roll down before he even has the chance to order me to.

"Please state your business." Reveling in the fact that I'm going to get a little thrill of power out of my next act, I reach into my jacket and pull out my Bureau identification and show it to him, waiting for him to squirm. It doesn't happen.

"So you're the agents going to the pen, huh?" The cop says, looking oddly unconcerned. Sam frowns as I reply.

" Yes, we're headed there. Mind letting us through now? They're expecting us before midnight." Sam glances at me worriedly, but I shrug it off, being too impatient to read into what she might have been trying to tell me.

"Hold on," The cop replies mildly. "I'll be back in a minute." And with that said with an undertone of arrogance, he swaggers back to one of the squad cars.

"I don't like the feel of this, John," Sam says quietly. "Not at all. Something's up-" Just when I'm about to console her, another cop appears in my headlights and pulls out his service revolver…aiming it right at me.

"John get down!" Sam screams as the driver's side half of the windshield is shattered by the spray of multiple gun shots. "Oh shit…we've been ambushed," Sam manages to gasp as I grab my SIG Sauer, aim it to a point over my head and start shooting back.

Suddenly, the passenger side door is wrenched open, and I twist around, my gun ready to fire…

…A second too late. Our attackers gun fires first, and I feel myself being slammed up against the drivers side door with the force of the bullet.

"Noooo!!!" Sam screams as I struggle to grab her, to help her. She's fighting our attacker, but he manages to knock her out and drag her out of my car.

"…Sam…" My voice comes out as a strangled gasp as I look down at myself. A dark stain grows steadily around my right shoulder. A squeal of tires announces the kidnapper's departure as I make a half-assed attempt to reach my cell phone. When I finally do, I call 911 and give them all the information the need. I just hope they make it in time…

~ Fin


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Disclaimer: You all know the deal by now…I don't own Profiler and NBC/ COURT TV and Sander/Moses Productions does. But if I did, the show would still be on. J J J …..and Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. She rules so bad. I can't wait for her fifth book to come out. :)

The Fragile Pt.4

I watch Bailey almost nervously as he paces around the Command Center. Ever since he read that e-mail that Jack sent, he's worked himself into a ball of nerves. I can't really blame him though, considering what Jack wrote.

My Dearest Samantha,

You think you've won. You think you have finally beaten me and won the game. You're wrong. The game isn't finished, and will not end until I say so.

Time in prison has given me the opportunity to think some things through…to plan certain other things, which you will find out about in due time. And trust me, Samantha, when I am done you and Malone both will regret the day you were brought onto my case. You have led me on and taunted me too many times, Samantha…and now I'm drawing the line.

JaCk

Bailey throws down the printed version of Jack's e-mail down on the table.

"Sick bastard…" He growls, glaring at it, as if just by doing so he could make it burst into flames. Instinctively, he reaches for the phone, then stops. He wants to call her and tell her, I know, but he won't. He doesn't want to worry her, to order her to come back to the VCTF when there is the slightest possibility that she might 'see' something of any use at the penitentiary.

He sighs, wiping a hand across his forehead.

"Bailey…you don't look too good. Listen, why don't you go get some sleep. I'll monitor things from here and if anything comes up, I'll wake you and let you know." Bailey thinks about my idea and nods.

"Okay then George. Wake me when Sam gets back," He says before he walks up the stairs and out of the command center. When I'm certain that no one's watching, I reach into a bag laying on the chair beside me and pull out the newest Harry Potter book, 'Goblet of Fire'. I get a little bit of guilty pleasure reading the series, but I can't seem to help myself because they're so addicting.

I'm on the chapter titled "The Third Task" when I get a call through the switchboard. I set down the book and answer the phone.

"Frailey."

"This is Sgt. Ralph Gentry with the Georgia State Police. I'm calling from Macon General Hospital." I feel a chill run down my spine as I sit up straighter in my chair.

"What's happened?"

"A Special Agent from your Field Office has been brought here with a gunshot wound. His name is…John Grant. He's lost a lot of blood, but he should be okay."

"Was there another agent with him?"

"…I'm sorry. We haven't been able to find Dr. Waters…Agent Grant has informed me that they were ambushed on the way to the federal pen by people impersonating county cops. We did, however, find the bodies of those cops they were impersonating." He said this flatly, and I could hear the fury in his voice. If there was one thing you should never do, it's to kill a cop.

"I…I see. Thank you for letting us know."

"You're welcome." The Sargent hangs up and I'm out of my chair, running to Bailey's office, where he's sound asleep in his chair, snoring.

"Bailey, wake up. Something's happened," I say urgently, shaking him awake.

"What? What's wrong?" My boss frowns, not too thrilled that I woke him.

"John's been shot, and Sam's missing. A Statie just called and said that John was at Macon General. We got to go, now."

"Oh Jesus," Bailey said, his face paling as I grabbed my car keys and steered him out the door. "I should have called her…I should have called her back here…"

"Bailey, you know as well as I do she probably would have ignored you. Searching Jack's cell would have taken priority for her than to worry about her fan letter from Jack," I say quietly as we enter the elevator.

"It doesn't matter what she might have thought, what she might have done if I had called her, George," Bailey almost snarls as the elevator doors open to the ground floor. "What matters is that I didn't call her, and if anything happens to her, I am responsible for it, both professionally and personally." We reach my car and both of us climb in. Bailey pulls out his cell phone and dials Grace's number as I pull out of the parking lot.

"Hey Gracie it's Bailey. Sorry I woke you. Well, we have a problem… George and I need you to meet us at Macon General Hospital as soon as you can. John's there…he was shot while Sam and him were heading to the federal pen where Jack escaped…they were gonna go over Jack's cell, see if she could come up with anything. Okay…thanks Gracie." He hangs up and his face is now white as a ghost. I know what he's thinking, even though I don't dare to say it out loud. What if Jack's finally won the game?

~ Fin


	5. Default Chapter Title

Here's Part Five of The Fragile. Please Read/Review, as I do want to keep on writing and I would like all of your suggestions/comments on how to do better, if you have any. If not, I'll settle for simple adoration. J J You all know the deal…I don't own Profiler. Never have and unfortuanately never will…but if ya wanna complain about the third and fourth seasons, please direct your rants to NBC…and someone else who I will not even mention, he's not worth it…but you all know who I'm talking about. J It belongs to Court TV now also too. Lyrics of 'Wait and Bleed' are from Slipknot.

The Fragile Pt. 5

I wake up in darkness, blindfolded and with my hands cuffed behind my back. Moving my legs around, I guess that I'm in the trunk of the car, heading unwillingly towards…

I can't think about that. I WON'T. But the fact still remains that he probably had a hand involved in this little abduction scheme of his. He must have. I feel the first sparks of fury ignite inside me, and all I can do is curse myself silently for not listening to Bailey's advice earlier. No, I had to leave as soon as I got home to search that bastard's cell…I couldn't have possibly waited a couple hours…

I feel the car begin to slow down and a sickening lurch as the driver makes a sharp turn, then I get jostled as we go over a road filled with potholes.

Faintly, I hear music on the car's radio.

~ I felt the air rise up in me

Kneel down and clear the stone of leaves

I walk around where you can see

Inside my shell I wait and bleed…~

"Goddamn it, turn the fucking channel. How can you listen to that shit?" One of my kidnappers growls flatly as the music suddenly switches to country.

"Because I happen to like that "shit", as you so aptly put it," the other one snapped, "You have a problem with that? Besides, we're almost there…you could have been able to deal with it for a couple more minutes."

Time seems to slow down after he says that. A couple more minutes now somehow feels like eternity, then the patrol car slows and comes to a stop. I hear the car doors slam, and I shiver as their steps come closer to the back of the car. The trunk opens and I feel hands grab me and roughly drag me out of the trunk, then drag me somewhere else. The two men don't speak as we come to a halt.

Minutes later, I hear another pair of footsteps come closer. Slow, deliberate…patient. I resist the urge to shiver, because even though I can't see him, I know very well who the person is, and he knows I know.

"Kneel," One of the men growls. I smirk slightly. No way in hell am I giving Jack that kind of satisfaction. No way. At least not willingly.

"I said kneel!" The man shouted into my ear, a minute before my legs crumple underneath me with some help. My knees hit the rocky ground hard, and I can't stop the low groan escaping from my lips.

"Now is that any way to treat my Samantha, Darren? Please…show some respect…" Jack's voice slithers.

"Well considering you're the one that ordered him to do that Jack, I'd say he had no choice in the matter," I reply, not hiding the bitterness dripping from my voice.

"Would I do such a thing to you, Samantha?"

"You've done worse." Jack's laughter echoes around us, and I tighten my lips in grim determination."You've wasted your time doing this, Jack. Whatever you want from me…your not gonna get it."

"I don't think you have any choice in the matter, Samantha," His voice teases, and I feel his hand caress my cheek gently. Revolted, I pull away and he laughs again. "No choice at all. Take her inside."

Yanking my blindfold and taking my cuffs off me, they shove me into a room and lock the door. I glance around, rubbing my wrists, not thrilled with what I see.

The room is fairly big, with two rooms leading off from it. Sparsely furnished, this room has only a table with a couple of chairs, and barred windows, not to mention a surveilance camera.

"Always knew you were a voyeur, Jack," I murmur, before calmly lifting my fists to the camera and giving it two middle fingers. "How do you like that view?" Picturing him steaming over that little show of defiance, I smirk and go into the two other rooms.

One's a bathroom, with all the usual amenities, plus another camera.

"Asshole," I mutter as I open the second door, pulling back as soon as I do so.

It was the bedroom, more furnished then the other two. Everything was white. Except, of course, for the roses and their petals strewn everywhere. On the bed, rose petals formed a huge heart.

"Oh, I'm touched," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but it's shaky. Jack knows he's hit a nerve as I quickly get out of that room. Ah christ, I got to get out of here. Right now. I look for something, anything that would even be remotely useful as a weapon or otherwise, and with a cry of dismay, I find nothing. Nothing sharp, that I could cut myself with…or anyone else. 

Tired from lack of sleep, I make my way to one of the chairs and slump into it, not wanting to crawl into that bed that Jack had so thoughtfully gotten for me, even though after almost two days of not getting any sleep, it was looking pretty inviting. Facing the door, I lay my head slowly down on the desk, hoping that Jack wouldn't choose that minute to barge in and try some of his mind games with me.

I feel my eyelids get heavy as I slowly drift off to sleep, knowing full well that he was watching me, probably smoking a cigarette as he did so. Too tired to really care, I sink into oblivion…


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Okay! Here is Part 6 of my story, The Fragile. Nope, don't own Profiler but I wish I did, cause it would be totally awesome. NBC/ Court TV and Sander/ Moses productions own em. L Oh...and I don't own the Big Purple dinosaur either. Please tell me what ya think, flames or encouragement, I don't care. J

The Fragile Pt. 6

With my legs up on the desk, I watch Samantha as she explores our new temporary home. I see the disgust and the shock on her face as she sees the bedroom, and I chuckle.

"Don't worry, Samantha, you'll get used to it, in due time," I whisper softly, reaching into my shirt pocket for a cigarette. Lighting it up, I slowly take a drag off of it and sigh.

The door to my room opens and I glare coldly at the intruder. One of the men who ambushed Agent Grant's car is standing in the doorway.

"What do you want?" 

"Uh…Me and Ted are gonna dump the cop car now. Just thought you'd want to know." I snort derisively. Like I care if the damn fools dump the car or not. They're dead anyway.

"Fine. Go," I reply icily, "and make sure no one sees you." Shawn nods and leaves, closing the door behind him, and within a few minutes I can see car headlights and can hear the muted roar of two engines, which quickly fade as they leave me in peace.

I turn my attention back to the monitors, and I notice my lovely Samantha has fallen asleep at the table. With a faint smile, I get up and walk into the kitchen, needing something to eat, all the while thinking of what those incompetents at the Task Force must be going through…what Malone must be going through.

"Poor Malone," I say with an evil chuckle, "You've fucked up again, haven't you?" I'll have to kill him, I decide suddenly. That fool is the only thing standing between Samantha and I, and as long as he's alive, he's a problem…a major one.

How should I do it? I ponder the possibilities as I pour myself a glass of Brut Extra Dry Champagne. Torture? Drowning? Strangulation? Gunshot wounds? The possibilities are almost endless, I realize with a smirk. After much thought on the subject, I decide torture. I need to see him suffer…to see him beg for me to stop the pain.

Unconsciously I crush the last few remaining cigarettes I have in my fist, and I curse, realizing I'll have to keep one of my two brain donors alive long enough to get me some more. With a snarl, I turn on the TV.

"- And the big news this morning is of the escaped serial-killer and death row convict more commonly known as the 'Jack of all Trades'. Federal, State and local law enforcement agents are on the lookout for a man fitting this description."

A picture of myself comes up as I change the channel.

"I love you…you love me…" A familiar purple dinosaur sang happily.

"God no," I whisper, shuddering as I hurriedly change the channel. Finding nothing on, I yawn and turn the TV off. Later on, I'd have to prepare for Agent Malone's arrival…

Walking past the door to Samantha's rooms, I pause and blow a kiss before heading to my own bedroom farther down the hallway.

My bedroom, unlike Samantha's, is decorated in black. The only things of any color are the bouquets of roses and the pictures of Samantha in various states of emotion.

Humming a tune to myself, I strip down to my boxers and slide underneath the black satin sheets. With thoughts of torturing Bailey and celebrating it with Samantha, I fall asleep with a smile on my face…


	7. Default Chapter Title

Well, here is part 7 of The Fragile. As usual, I don't own Profiler. 

(sigh) But I wish I did! NBC/ Court TV owns it, as well as Saunder/Moses Productions. If by chance I DID own it, I would have made the third & fourth season SO MUCH BETTER!!! J

The characters of Dana, Dell and Fiona belong to me. J

The Fragile Pt 7

Around two hours later, George and I arrive at Macon General hospital. After flashing our identification, we arrive in no time at John's hospital room.

"Hey John." The young agent looks up at me, frowning.

"Bailey." My agent said it quietly. "I'm sorry…I lost her."

"There was nothing you could have done John. Those bastards had the ambush all planned. Jack knows Sam too well. He knew she'd want to go there immediately."

"No…I shoulda turned faster, Bailey," John slurrs. "I shoulda been able to take that fucker out. I shoulda…"

His door opens behind me, and Grace walks in.

"This is the second time you've been shot in your right shoulder, John. Are you trying to go for an obscure Bureau record?" Grace says drolly, picking up John's chart as he smirks at her.

"No Grace, I just enjoy the feeling of a bullet ripping into my shoulder blade and hitting various other parts of my body," John replies sarcastically, wincing as he shifts in the hospital bed. George says he's gonna try to fing some vending machines and leaves the room. He's never had a fondness for hospitals.

Pulling a chair up to his bed, I take a seat at John's side.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Yeah…Sam and I were almost to the pen when we ran into a couple of roadblocks. We identified ourselves to be F.B.I. and were told we wouldn't be stopped at the next roadblock."

"But you were."

"Yeah. Sam…She had a bad feeling something was going to happen, but I brushed it off, thinking it was just paranoia over Jack escaping. But it wasn't." John shook his head, reliving last nights events in his mind. "One of the cops pulled his gun out, started blastin my car. I pulled out my own and return fire when Sam's door opens, and the next thing I know, I've been shot and Sam's been taken. After that…I don't remember a hell of a lot. I'm sorry, Bailey."

"It's okay," I nod as my cell phone rings. Excusing myself from the room, I go out into the hallway and answer it.

"Malone."

"S.A.C. Malone…this is Section Chief Fiona Garciaparra. I think you have a lot of explaining to do." I roll my eyes skyward, not trusting the cell phone to not pick up a loud sigh.

"Yes ma'am…I imagine I do."

"Well then, while you're trying to find out what to say at the press conference, I'm sending another profiler down to help you out. She's quite good."

"Who is it?"

"The 'Dragon Lady' herself of course…Dana Green." The Section Chief said with an audible smirk.

"Dana Green…she caught a serial rapist up in Maine last year, didn't she?"

"Yes…and paid dearly for it, I'm afraid. The Director's letting me loan her from the Boston Field Office to help you out. She should be arriving in Atlanta at 9 this morning."

"Her partner isn't coming with her is he?"

"Agent Morgan? No, He's on a week personal leave while he and his wife finalize their divorce. Anyways, a word of advice, Malone…if she finds your serial killer…whatever you do, don't get in her way. The Director has authorized the use of extreme force in his apprehension, and Dana's his little pet project…-" Did I just detect a hint of jealousy in the Section Chief's voice? "-so give her some room."

"What, she's being cross-trained as a wet-girl now?" I snort, using the CIA term for a hired female assassin.

"Something like that…I can't go into further detail at this time." I roll my eyes again. Figures. "But have someone meet her at the Atlanta Airport at 9." Fiona hangs up, and I dial the Task Force, picking a young agent to be Ms. Green's chaffeur later on.

After I get off the phone with the agent I groan, leaning my head back against the wall. First Jack escaping from prison, then Sam being abducted and John being shot, and now I have a profiler coming to help me that I don't even know if I can trust. What else could possibly go wrong?

So, did you like? Review this part and tell me! J J J J J


	8. Default Chapter Title

Yup, here's the eighth part to my story. When will I stop? I don't know! J But when I do, I'll combine all the parts into one big story, I think. But you know the deal…since last I wrote, neither NBC or Court TV has suddenly decided to hand me the ownership rights to Profiler, so for the time being, they own them. The lyrics to 'Into the Void' belong to NIN. J Dana, Dell and Fiona, along with some other characters however, belong to me. J

The Fragile Pt.8

With my green eyes hidden behind my Ray-Bans I decided to pick up before I left for Atlanta, I watch the road pass by.

My driver, Special Agent Michael Miller, is a little afraid of me. I know what he's heard; my reputation seems to either fill a lot of people with admiration or fear. I have that effect on most people, and it no longer bothers me as much as it used to, before I met Dell Morgan, my partner.

__

~ A freak ~ A voice laughs in my mind. _~ Just like the KoRn song, you're a freak on a leash! ~_

~ Shut up, ~ I think back, and the voice disappears. For what has got to be the millionth time, I sigh, wishing that my partner had been able to accompany me. But he had the divorce to deal with, and that was more important.

__

~ You should have Passed Judgement on her, Dana, ~ The voice says again, and I shiver slightly. _~ You know she deserves it, mistreating their kids the way she does, treating Dell like dirt, thinking that you two were having a fling behind her back -~_

~ Shut up or I'll take Jack out without your help ~ I snarl silently in the darkest corners of my mind. The voice disappears again, and I tap my fingers to the rhythm of the song on the radio.

"Talking to myself all the way to the station

Pictures in my head of the final destination

All lined up (All the ones that aren't allowed to stay)

Tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away…"

"Good song," The young agent says, trying to break the ice. " You have the CD?"

"Yeah. Listen to this song constantly."

"You have any hard stuff?"

"You mean like Disturbed or Slipknot?"

"Yeah." 

I smile faintly. "Have them both. I'm more into Disturbed though, at least right now. I listen to Slipknot occasionally, when I'm pissed. Seems to help."

"Sweet." He risked a glance at me and I glance back, my eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry," He said, blushing. "I just didn't think that someone your age would have those CD's." I let out a chuckle.

"I'm not as old as you think I am."

"Okay then, how old do I think you are?"

"Thirty."

"Good guess," my driver concedes. "So how old are you?"

"Twenty-seven." Michael nods, and decides to change the subject.

"So why were you brought in? I don't mean to be nosy, but I have to admit, I'm curious."

"I was asked by the Director to help you guys out down here. My talents are…quite rare, quite hard to come by." I frown slightly, not wanting to even think of them. Using them was hard enough.

"So what are they?"

"For the moment, they're classified. But I'm supposed to show them off later when we meet your boss. I get the feeling he doesn't trust me too much." I saw him frown slightly, wondering how I knew that little tidbit of information.

We travel in relative silence for the next couple of miles before Michael's stomach begins to rumble.

"Hungry, are we?" He blushes.

"A little," He replies sheepishly. "I didn't have anything to eat this morning."

"Neither did I. Next place you see that serves food, stop at it. I'll cover the bill." He looks at me, surprised.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Look, there's a place up there. Stop so we can get a bite to eat." Michael does so, and I survey the parking lot of the old restaurant, part of my unconscious routine I seem to go through every day. Only a couple of beat-up cars are in the lot as we walk inside, and we're politely told by a waitress to make ourselves comfortable while she gets ready to take our order.

Once the waitress disappears into the kitchen, Michael and I begin to talk about music again, but are interrupted by angry murmurs coming from the restaurant's entrance.

Five men, all of whom could have fit the description for racist hicks, saunter in like they own the place. They glance our way and begin talking amongst themselves. Michael tenses, but I lay a hand on his dark-skinned arm.

"Ignore them," I say quietly. "Making the news for assaulting a bunch of good ol' boys isn't worth it."

"I suppose you're right," He mutters, forcing himself to relax as I take of my sunglasses and rub the bridge of my nose.

"So what's it like, down here in-'

"Well, well, well…look what we have here," The leader of the hicks says loudly, staring at us as he and his group come closer. "What is such a beautiful woman doing sittin' next to a nig-"

"-Earl, sit down somewhere and leave them alone," The waitress interrupts just in time. My hand becomes a vise grip on Michael's own as tenses once again. "Unless of course you want to pay for the damages," The waitress finishes saying, giving the five men a stern glare before she goes back into the kitchen. Grumbling at having their fun ruined, Earl and his friends slouch away into a shadowy booth in the far corner of the restaurant.

Soon after, the food arrives, and I sigh happily as I dig into my overfull plate. Michael raises his eyebrows, surprised.

"A little hungry, are we?"

I grin as I douse my pancakes with syrup. "A little," I replied, glancing critically at his plate, only half-filled with food. "You on the other hand need to get some meat on those bones." Michael relaxed and smiled.

"Maybe."

"No maybes about it. Eat."

"Yes ma'am."

"Please, call me Dana." My eyes dart to the corner where I notice one of the hicks getting up and going over to the phone, calling someone and talking in hushed whispers to someone on the other end while sending covert glances to our table.

__

~ Reinforcements! They're gonna ambush ya! ~

~ Really, ya think? ~ I reply sarcastically before saying out loud that maybe now would be a good time for Michael to get the waitress. I hand him a twenty-dollar bill and tell him to let the waitress keep the change. Hearing an odd note in my voice, he nods and heads right for her as I grab our stuff.

"Leaving so soon, honey?" I glare at Earl coldly through my Ray-Bans, all the while listening to that other voice doing running commentary.

__

~ What an ugly son of a bitch Earl is, Dana! ~ The voice practically shouted with glee. _~ Goddamn, it's a wonder his momma didn't just put him out of his misery just for looking like that! ~_

~ Damn it, would you for once shut the fuck up! ~

"Sizing me up, huh honey?" Earl leered. His mean laughed behind him. "Maybe you should look a little lower." His men roared with laughter as I glanced down then turned my attention back to his face.

"I just did," I reply, my voice cold. "Doesn't look like there's much there." His friends stop laughing as Earl's eyes narrowed in anger.

"I'll show you, you little bit-" His voice is cut off as I slide my left foot underneath his own and elbow him hard in the stomach, causing him to fall backwards onto the floor. His men surge forward, but stop as they see a red gleam behind my sunglasses.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" One of the men says, backing away in disgust…and fear. Michael comes up behind me, his hand just barely touching his SIG Sauer.

"I suggest you get the fuck out of my way," I growl, "Before I decide to get angry."

"Darlin', the odds are against you," A big, heavyset man declared flatly after helping Earl into a seat. The waitress and the cook both came out of the kitchen to watch the festivities.

"Not for much longer," I reply.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" I smile slowly, my eyes flaring a brilliant red once again.

"Well if you want to find out, then you're going to have to fight me, now aren't you?"

"I guess I'll have to," The man said, rushing at me with a knife. Sliding out of the way, I grabbed his wrist with one hand and broke the arm with my other, reveling in hearing the bones snap. Snatching his knife, I flung it at a dartboard hanging on the wall a good thirty feet away. It sank into the bulls-eye blade first, impaling the dartboard to the wall.

Ignoring the injured man's sobbed curses, I turn my attention to the three men still standing.

"Anyone else up for a little object lesson?" All three shake their head no, their faces pale as they back away from me.

Michael and I made it out to the car without any more problems.

"You never told me why we had to leave so early," Michael asks as I pull onto Rt. 75 leading into Macon, tires squealing.

"One of them called for reinforcements," I say as my eyes slowly change back to their normal green color. "We would have been surrounded by KKK members in a matter of minutes. As for his arm and the knife…" I sigh. "Under the circumstances, I shouldn't have been able to do both. You saw the size of that man who attacked me; he was a brute. Yet I broke his arm like you'd snap a twig, stole his knife and buried it up to the hilt in the bulls-eye of a dartboard, not to mention the wall behind it."

"It's one of those classified things you mentioned, isn't it?"

"It's part of that, yeah." In the distance, I see the morning sun glinting off truck hoods. I step on the gas, and the needle rises to 70. "You see? There's their reinforcement." Three trucks, all filled with the same kind of men we'd met at the restaurant pass by and fade into the background of the rearview mirror.

"Do you think there's any chance of them coming after us?"

"I don't think so. By the time they do, we'll already be in Macon."

Thirty minutes later, we get to the hospital. Flashing our badges a couple of times works wonders, and soon we arrive at a hospital room. Knocking brings a middle-aged agent around my partner's own age to the door.

"Sir," Michael says politely, "This is Special Agent Dana Green, Fiona's Profiler."

"I'm not Fiona's anything," I reply dryly, and Michael flushes with embarrassment, "But I am a profiler…and if I were you Bailey, I wouldn't start drinking again. It isn't gonna help her any." The Senior Agent glances at me in surprise.

"How did you? - I haven't been-"

"You were considering it," I replied before meeting the other members of the Task Force. All of them were friendly enough, and I sat down in one of the chairs, taking off my duster and stretching my legs.

"So what took you guys so long?" Grace asked politely. 

"We had a little problem with some white supremacists on the way here," Michael said mildly, "And Dana felt the need to set them straight, didn't you?"

"Why yes Michael you could say that," I smile back at the young agent. Bailey gives me a look, and I sigh. "No Bailey, I didn't kill any of them. None of them were worth the workout to do so. What did you want me to do? They had three truckloads of their KKK pals coming to the restaurant where we were eating, and I sure as hell wasn't about to stick around and try to fight my way through three times as many men. We would have still made it here, but in the back of a goddamn ambulance. Besides, I'm not under your jurisdiction, and they don't even know we were Bureau agents, so don't worry about it."

"Trust me, I don't intend to," Bailey grumbled. "I just had a press conference that I had to suffer through. Let's just forget for the moment that you mentioned white supremacists, shall we?"

" Fine with me. So tell me what happened," I ask, and Bailey relays the details. "Hmm…very smart, especially on such short notice." I frown, trying to put the pieces together in my mind. "Normally he doesn't work with someone else, according to all the stuff you've been telling me. So that would mean…he's playing to win this time."

"Hasn't he always?" Bailey said with a growl, obviously not impressed with my deductive reasoning.

"No. Everything before…he was toying with you, making you waste your time while his concentration was elsewhere. Listen…since the last time he went for her, everyone knows what this asshole looks like. He could decide to put on one of his masks and go gallivanting around Georgia, but now he's being cautious. He won't risk it, now that you've put every member of law enforcement in this state on high alert. He'll send others…disciples…to do his dirty work instead." I glance over at Agent Grant, who's fast asleep. "Did he see the man's faces?"

"No, Bailey sighs. "All he noticed was that they were wearing cop uniforms and those wide-brimmed hats."

"Jack wouldn't have cops on his payroll unless he was absolutely sure they were totally loyal to him. I think it's more likely that two guys ambushed the cops, stole their uniforms and took their positions at the roadblock, after the real cops got the order not to stop John. Your serial killer really was cutting it close, wasn't he? My point being is, jack's gotten some of what he wants, but he ain't finished yet…not by a long shot."

"What do you mean?" George asks quietly. I pause thoughtfully before I reply. "I read some of Jack's file on the plane here. Jack wants to possess Sam; I'd say from everything he's done the past few years that's become fairly obvious. But even though he's got her, something- or should I say someone? - Is blocking him from his ultimate goal. To ruin her, he'd have to-" I pause, glancing up at Bailey, who's frowning at me

"What?" He says folding his arms. "What's wrong?"

"To break the student, he must break the teacher," I say softly. "He wants to teach her to become just like him; an unbeatable serial killer, right? He's gonna have to break her down first. The only way I see that ever happening is if he goes after you and kills you. Sam, in Jack's mind, will see that he can't be beaten, and she'll join him. If she doesn't…" I shrug. "I don't know, but I know you'll never see her again. So Bailey, now that you know he's gunning for you, are you ready to take the Jack of all trades on?"


	9. Default Chapter Title

Well, here is the Ninth (Yes, I said Ninth) Part of The Fragile. Parts 1-8 will be going up soon as a general first half (you know they'll all be together, and I'll be doing a little editing and stuff.) Props to Robin for mentioning me in her SIF she recently posted. Robin, you own. J

As always, I haven't won Powerball, so Court TV and NBC own Profiler. Oh yeah, White Hats are the good, benevolent hackers out there in cyberspace, trying to make security better for companies with computer networks. They own too. J

P.S. Have a few Author's Notes at the bottom. Kinda long. Some are not for people that have just eaten, so I've given ya'll fair warning.

The Fragile

Pt.9

(George's P.O.V)

I glance nervously from Agent Green's face to Bailey's, wondering if since she wasn't working as a subordinate under Bailey, then whom exactly was she working for. I make a mental note to ask Bailey if he wants me to do a background check on her later.

Neither of them speaks for awhile; both keep their eyes locked on one another, as if they were deep in a silent conversation. Finally, Dana speaks.

"Bailey, just because Fiona asked that I be brought in doesn't mean that you can't trust me," She said, brushing some of her brunette hair out of her face. Bailey's eyes widen slightly in surprise, but otherwise, his expression doesn't change.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do, Bailey. I think you do. But have it your way. We can talk about it later." She turns her gaze towards me, and smiles faintly. "So, where are you guys staying her in beautiful Macon?" Her tone was faintly sarcastic, and even Bailey smiled a little before replying that we were staying at the Macon Bed and Breakfast about fifteen minutes away from the hospital. Dana nodded and said she'd drop off her things there, then return.

As soon as Dana leaves the room, Bailey glances over at me, and I know what he wants me to do almost before it's out of his mouth.

"No problem Bailey," I say, with a sharp crack of my knuckles. "Any information on her I'll have for you within the hour."

"Good," Bailey nods before he turns to Grace and asks her to go with him and check out the area where John and Sam were ambushed. The two of them leave and I plug my laptop modem into the phone jack. In minutes I'm into the Bureau's Personnel files, and soon I bring up Agent Green's.

-Access Denied-

"What the hell…" This can't be right. I frown, glaring at the monitor before I try something else.

-Access Denied-

"A challenge, huh?" My lip curves slightly upward into a smile. I haven't had a good one in awhile. Typing a list of commands into my computer, however, does nothing. I begin to lose my temper.

"Why won't you let me in?" I growl, rubbing my temples. I've cracked so many other pages and sites it isn't even funny, even when they had anti-hacking services protecting the sites. But now? Now I couldn't even do a hack into a Bureau agent's file?

"I'm hurt," I say flatly, my eyes narrowing. There's got to be a crack in that other profiler's armor somewhere.

I don't even notice the time going by, and all I get is the same message, taunting me…'Access Denied'. I'm so absorbed in my challenge that I don't hear the door open behind me.

"If you wanted to know my background, Agent Frailey, why didn't you just ask?" Agent Green's voice makes me jump in my chair as I hurriedly exit out of my hacking program. Dana sits down in a chair and regards me with those cool green eyes of hers. A quote floats to the top of my mind; something about the eyes being portals to the soul. There is pain in hers. Pain and something else; a thirst for violence that I have only seen in the eyes of some of the people we catch.

"Like you would have just told me? I think not," I reply, regarding her sarcastically. She cocks her head slightly to the side and gives me a look. ~ Just like Sam ~ A hurried thought rolls through my brain.

"You find that hard to believe? You sure as hell won't be finding it out that way," She replies, her voice loaded with just as much sarcasm as mine was. "Trust me, you wouldn't believe how many White Hats the Bureau has had try to break into that file. They can't do it. Neither will you."

"And why is that?"

"Just because my name is listed in the personnel files doesn't mean my whole file is there." She opens up a can of Coke she had brought in from the vending machine outside, and takes a sip. "You'd have to dig very deep for it…and by that time you'd be caught. Trust me…it's not worth the hassle."

"So tell me about yourself then. Why isn't your file with everyone else's?"

"My file is classified…only a few people have the access to open it. Since you're not one of them…it appears your shit out of luck, if you pardon the expression."

I sigh, turning my computer off. "What's on your file that would make it classified?"

"That I don't even know. An agent from my Field Office in Boston, Matt Palmer, was updating the personnel files when he found that I apparently didn't have one. We made a few calls, and found out that access to it was not allowed to us." Her voice is laced with bitterness as she takes another swig of the soda.

"Okay…so why don't you tell me about yourself then. I promised Bailey I'd be able to hack into your file, but since that isn't going to happen…"

"I entered the Bureau four years ago, trained underneath the best Profilers the Academy had. After I got out, I was partnered with Special Agent Dell Morgan, and we were sent to Boston.

A year ago…" Dana pauses for a moment, reliving the events in her mind, "A year ago there was a serial killer running around loose in Maine. He was a transplant. Didn't commit any crimes at all until he went to Maine…" She shakes her head. "The state doesn't have the death penalty. They believe it to be too…harsh a punishment." Dana sneered faintly. "Even after what happened, they still believe it to be too harsh. Opportunistic serial predators like states like that. They won't have to pay the ultimate punishment if they're caught.

"He stalked his victims for a week, followed them everywhere they went, you know, familiarized himself with their routine, began fantasizing of what he would do to them…

When he made his move, he would keep them alive for only five days, putting them through the worst torture you could ever imagine. We found the bodies raped, stabbed, strangled, whipped and dismembered…both pre and post-mortem. He would make them eat dog food when they got hungry…wanted them to know they were nothing but pets to him, and just as disposable." Dana shudders faintly.

"What happened?" I find myself leaning on the edge of my seat, waiting for her to tell me.

"I took it upon myself to become his ideal victim," Dana replies, before turning her back to me and lifting up the back of her shirt, revealing more scars than I could conveniently count at the moment.

"You went undercover?" Dana nodded, lowering her shirt and turning back to me. 

"You can say that. It…wasn't the most pleasant experience I've had to go through. I only lasted four days, unlike the others."

"Why only four?" She smiled, and I found that I already knew the answer.

"Because I had the opportunity to kill him before the fifth. The odd thing is…I don't remember it happening." Dana shakes her head slightly before changing the subject. "Does that tell you enough of what you need to know? I stopped that motherfucker from hurting and killing any more women. I can sure as hell stop this one."

This time, I don't doubt that one bit. Dana glances at John and sighs.

"It's too bad, about this one," She comments suddenly, and I risk a questioning glance at her.

"What do you mean?"

"He feels powerless. Doesn't want to be in a hospital room. He'd much rather be grinding Jack into a pulp right now with the rest of you."

"How do you-?"

Dana smiles mysteriously, and gets up out of the chair, heading towards the door.

"I just do. Tell Bailey that I'm on my way. I know where he went." She leaves, and I'm left staring at the door, wondering how the hell she knew anything…

Author's note: Yeah, this part was a little sick. The part about Maine not having the death penalty is true. L Also, the thing about the serial killer making his multiple captives eat dog food is in fact real…it was Gary Heidnik. He was not a very nice boy, capturing women for his own personal harem and torturing them for days upon end. Two of his captives he killed, one by electrocution and the other one I guess just starved to death. But Heidnik mixed the dog food with parts of one of the women he killed. (Seriously, I'm not making this up. I got it out of the Encyclopedia of Serial Killers A to Z.) He was basically a sick son of a bitch who is now, I am pleased to note, dead. Anyway, I know, I know my story's getting' a little weird J but I do hope you'll all continue reading (and hopefully reviewing, hint hint)

~ Demonchilde 


	10. Default Chapter Title

YEE-HAH!!! Here it is, folks: The Fragile Pt. 10! I know it's been awhile, and I do sincerely apologize, but I've been busy recently. The disclaimer…I know, you know, we all know that I don't frigging own Profiler, or the characters that belong to it. But wouldn't it be awesome if I did? (Yes it would.) Hope all of ya have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. J

The Fragile Pt. 10 

(Sam's POV)

I jerk myself awake and bend my head back to get the kinks out of it. Bleary-eyed, I glance at my watch.

9:32

Blinking, I yawn and eye the door with suspicion, knowing that sooner or later Jack or one of his cronies would come through it.

__

You should have listened to Bailey, Sam, my conscience declares haughtily. _If you did, you'd be at the Pen right now going over his goddamn cell instead of in here as his prisoner…_

Putting my head in my hands, I wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into this time. Jack didn't intend on letting me go the last time, and I knew that this time it would be no different. But something was off. If only I could but my finger on it…

The door opens, and in walks Jack with some breakfast for me on a silver platter.

__

Not that I'm going to eat it… 

"Good morning Samantha," Jack smiled at me, and inwardly I shivered. "Did you sleep well?"

"Are you trying to be funny? You know I didn't, being the voyeuristic serial killer that you are," I shot back, and he laughed.

"You really should sleep in your bed, my dear Samantha," Jack said afterwards, with a small smile on his face. "I imagine it's so much more comfortable than a table and a chair."

"I imagine the only reason why you want me to sleep in there is because you want to fulfill your sick fantasies," I snarled back, color rising in my face.

"Maybe, but at least you'll get a better nights sleep." He slid the platter of food across the table towards me and I stared at it, touching nothing.

"Not necessarily," I replied, the sarcasm rising in my voice with each word. "Just thinking about you watching me sleep makes me violently ill."

"Then I take it you're not hungry then."

"What amazing powers of deduction you have Jack. I'm amazed."

"You'll have to eat sometime, Samantha…or maybe you're afraid that I put something in your food?" His icy blue eyes twinkled with mirth, and I felt a low growl begin in my throat. _This asshole thinks this whole situation is funny._

"I don't know, did you?" 

"Now why would I do that for?"

"I don't know, but I don't trust you nearly as much as your delusional mind thinks I do," I said, getting out of my chair. "You set me up for a murder I didn't commit, and then you orchestrated Sharon Lesher's murder because she became a liability to you. I couldn't trust you as far as I could throw you, and that's what this is all about, isn't it? Instead of trying to coerce me into killing people, you want me to begin to trust you, so you're starting out slowly." I glance into his eyes and I know I'm right. "Sorry Albert. It'll never happen."

"Then I guess you're just going to have to hope I don't force feed you," He replied chillingly.

"We wouldn't want you to enjoy that, now would we?"

"I don't particularly like watching you suffer, Samantha. I cannot bear to see you in pain."

"Oh really…I never would have guessed, with you killing almost everybody I'm close to…killing Tom and Coop…and you never like to watch me suffer. Real interesting way of showing it."

"I had to do those things Samantha. I had to make you see." He takes a step closer to me, and I glare at him, taking a step back. 

"See what, exactly? That's you're a serial killer with a god complex? That's already common knowledge at the VCTF, Albert. You're really not breaking any new ground here." I grin as I see his eyes flash with anger. 

_Oh boy, are you getting him pissed…_

"I had to make you see that nothing can stand in my way Samantha when it comes to your welfare, your well-being. I won't let anything come between us."

"Haven't we already covered this ground before? There is nothing between us, Albert. The only reason I've suffered this long is because my father wanted me to marry someone made of money and do nothing for the rest of my life. So he met you…and when he did, my world starting falling apart…and not for the better."

"You don't mean that," Jack hissed, his fists clenching.

"Yes, I do."

"You'll regret angering me like this, Samantha," My stalker growled. "Just because you're here with me doesn't mean I'm finished I'm finished with Bailey or your pals at the Task Force…not by a long shot," He finished, then left, slamming and locking the door behind him.

"I'm not too worried about them, Jack," I whisper to myself in reply. "But you should be…because this time they're going to kill you for this, and there will be no one stopping Bailey from pulling the trigger…"


	11. Default Chapter Title

Yep. Here's Part 11. J Goddamn I'm on a roll! Anyways, here's the disclaimer…Profiler don't belong to me, and neither do its characters. On a more sarcastic note, the BOY who was in charge of seeing that The Thrillogy was offed, Mr. Garth Ancier, was fired! What goes around comes around, don't it? **Evil grin** hee hee hee… Oh yeah…Merry Christmas all!!!

And now on with the show…

The Fragile Pt. 11

Jack's POV

I leave her room and immediately go on a rampage, sending things crashing to the floor. How dare she, _HOW DARE SHE DO THIS TO ME!_ After all the time, after all the effort I've put into building a relationship with her, she still refuses me. I walk into the kitchen of my hideout and sit at the table, scowling into space.

_She got you pissed and it worked, JaCk,_ the thought came unbidden to me. I growl and turn on the news, knowing that for the moment, she had the upper hand.

"But not for long, my dear Samantha," I say to myself, desperately hunting in my pockets for a pack of Marlboro's, "Not for long."

"And our top story for today…The number one person on the FBI's Most Wanted list is still out on the loose. Albert Newquay, wanted for the murders of approximately 30 to 40 people, escaped yesterday from Macon Federal Penitentiary, where he was on Death Row for those murders. As a side note, Section Chief Fiona Garciaparra of the Bureau has called in a profiler from Boston to help in the search…-"

"Really now?" I lean closer, my eyes narrowing at the anchorwoman on CNN. This certainly was news to me…"Who else will be entering my little game?"

"-Dana Green, out of the Boston Field Office has been brought in on what criminologists are now calling the "Crime of the century." Agent Green, a four year veteran, has…" The TV anchor drones on and on as I sit back in my chair. I smile, taking a drag off my cigarette.

"Well Agent Green," I whisper softly, my eyes glued to the screen, "Why should I consider you to even be a challenge? Especially if Fiona's brought you on…" I chuckle. "This will be interesting. A new player has found her way into our game, Samantha…let's see how long she'll last."

The anchorwoman's face was soon replaced by that of a video camera feed, showing two people walking to their car. The taller one must be her, I muse, studying her. She didn't seem to fit the description of the typical FBI agent to me. But I should know more than most the appearances could be deceiving…

"Agent Green! Agent Green! What can you tell us about this case so far?" Dana turned around and smiled at the camera.

"I can't tell you anything about the case so far, considering I just got here. But I can tell you that Albert Newquay has got to be the unluckiest person on the face of this earth right now."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm now assigned to him, and no one's ever gotten away from me. It'll be no different with this one."

I turn off the TV and begin to laugh. She thinks she can take ME? I begin to laugh even harder, tears rolling down my face.

"I'll give you one thing, Dana…you do have a pair of balls on you…but those won't be hardly enough if you wish to face me." I wipe the tears off my face and turn off the television. I've got work to do, and not a lot of time to do it.

Walking over to my chest in the corner, I open it up and grab some things out of it, not bothering to use gloves. They already know who I am. I begin to build my masterpiece, an open gesture of defiance to my archenemy.

"Merry Christmas, Malone," I whisper when I'm done. "Hope you like my little gift. Tell your new mind hunter I said hello, and that I look forward to seeing you both very, very soon. Who knows...maybe I'll have to send her some of my homegrown roses as a gift…


	12. Default Chapter Title

Here is part 12 folks. Hope y'all enjoy it…but if you don't, that's okay too. Either way, please review. J anyways…I still don't own the magnificent, amazing, stupendous show that is Profiler. Why, you ask? Truth is, I don't know, but NBC owns it as well as Court TV and Saunder/Moses.

Oh BTW, the reason why this is unknown is because it would spoil the ending if I said who it was.

The Fragile Pt. 12

(Unknown POV)

4 PM

I have laughed. I have seethed with fury. I have felt the need to vengeance. I have felt depression settle over me like a winter snowstorm, cutting me off from everyone and everything that I hold dear…and I did that all in one day last week, when I decided to change my life forever.

In my position, I must be careful. The Bureau would have my hide if they knew of the terrible deeds I have done. They cannot know. They cannot find out, Or I'll be sent away to a maximum security prison, complete with sadomachoshistic prisoners and roaches on the floors of cells. Or maybe I'd simply be shot by one of my comrades. For some reason, especially now, that wouldn't surprise me.

I'm pissed now. Too fucking angry to think straight, I reach for my bottle of Asprin and pop two of them in, hoping that they get rid of this goddamn headache I've been having. My thoughts take an abrubt turn to the events that have happened today, and I practically roar with fury, wondering where I went wrong, what I did to have this happen to me.

"Goddamn you…are you fucking stupid?" I yell at myself in the silence of my house. "Do you still feel confident enough about what you have done, you stupid fuck?" feeling my anger reach its breaking point, I hurl the Asprin bottle across the room and watch it shatter the picture frame that it had hit.

"I never meant for this to go this far," I whimper, rocking myself back and forth in my chair. "All I wanted to do was embarrass you, nothing more…but this…I should have seen it coming. He throughly convinced me, and I was foolish enough to take the bait."

Shit, my nose is running. Wiping it with the back of my hand, I grab a tissue and blow before throwing the sodden thing in the trash. I've got to do something to make sure thay don't find out that I'm involved, which they most certainly will if they keep going in the direction they're headed in. Especially since SHE came along…

My eyes narrow, and I desperately want something else to throw. Nothing comes to mind except a mental image of my fist plowing into her face, and I smile, picturing myslef shooting her at point blank range, watching her green eyes widen in shock and pain, then slowly close as Death claims her with his bony grip.

Suddenly I laugh, my voice rising in the darkness. I haven't felt this good in ages.

__

You'll get what's coming to you, you bitch…you and the rest of your new found friends at the Task Force…


	13. Default Chapter Title

Hello everyone out there in fanfiction.net land! How y'all doin' today? I'm fine, thanks for asking. J Here is…(drum roll please…) The Fragile part 13! 

Disclaimer…*sobs* I **STILL **don't own the show! Why not? Because I'm not a rich bitch, that's why… but if I was, then damn straight I'd buy Profiler in a heartbeat…and put it on CBS to trounce NBC in Saturday night ratings. Mwa, ha, ha!!! J It actually belongs to Court TV, Saunder/Moses (they're wicked cool. J ) and other people. Umm, the song 'December' is owned by Static-X.

The Fragile Pt. 13

(Bailey's POV)

10 PM

Macon Hotel

I can't sleep.

Every time I try, I see a pair of ice blue eyes begging me to help. I've tried Nytol and everything else, but nothing works in these situations. Nothing except…

The sound of music from the next room over brings me out of my reverie. It starts out quiet and low, then begins to build in sound as it continues. 

_Still feel the cold_

Of long past days

I knew my worth

Put in my place

It's no surprise

I realize

Sometime before…

December…

Sun shines through haze

I put my thoughts

Towards future days

It's no surprise

I close my eyes

And close the door…

Feeling so old

Years pass like days

Vastly changing

So many ways

My eyes perceive

Yes I believe 

In nothing more…

I sigh as the song comes to an end. I suppose I was going to have to talk with her, sooner or later. Groaning, I knock on the connecting door.

"It's open, Bailey," Agent Green's voice replies, and I open it up and walk in. She's sitting Indian style on her bed, a liter of Coke close by her side.

"What, no rum?" She turns and smiles.

"Nah…I don't drink. It's a bad habit." Her smile fades, and she turns her attention back to her laptop. "Listen, I know you don't want me here, and that's fine with me. You don't trust me, and to put it bluntly, I don't give a shit. I was called down here to do a job and I intend on doing it."

"What exactly does your job entail? Helping us find Sam or helping Fiona get another promotion?" I shot back, sitting down in a chair. Another smile flitted across her face before she replied.

"I believe I told you before that I didn't work for Fiona. She and I…let's say you wouldn't want to lock us together in a room."

"And why is that?"

"Because-" She took a swig off her Coke and continued, "-Only one of us would be walking out that door, and it sure as hell wouldn't be her."

"Is that so?" This girl was cocky as hell, I'll give her that.

"Yeah, it is. Eight months ago, before she was sent packing down here, she was involved in a botched raid in Boston that almost got my partner, along with six other agents killed. She was taken before OPR, and said that there was a 'Clear lack of communication between the six agents and herself' and all this other bullshit."

"She put the blame on them?"

"Yeah, and they gave her a slap on the wrist." She sent the e-mail she was working on, then shut her laptop down. "All they did was put her on disciplinary leave while they figured out what they should do with her. They decided to give her one last chance, and, unfortunately for you, they shipped her ass down here."

"Fiona's made tons of friends, hasn't she?" Agent Green laughed.

"I take it when you first met her you didn't hit it off?"

"No…not at all." She smiled knowingly.

"She tried to seduce you, didn't she?"

"How did-"

"That's how she's risen through the ranks. She finds the weakest man on the promotion board, goes after them like a bloodhound."

"That explains quite a lot."

Before either of us could say more on the matter her cell phone rang, and Dana answered it.

"Green here." Suddenly she straightened, her eyes widening, and I knew something was up. "Yeah, we'll be right there." She hung up and leapt off her bed, grabbing her duster. "Guess who that was?"

"Fiona?" Dana nodded, shrugging into her coat. 

"Jack sent a little present to the hospital, but apparently Fiona got to it first. No-ones opened it yet," She added as she grabbed her holster, "But it's his writing on the package."

"Then let's go," I reply gruffly, and we leave the hotel, not speaking to each other until we arrive at the hospital, where my esteemed Section Chief is waiting for us at the outpatient entrance.

"Agents," Fiona says by way of greeting, "I know it's rather late, but this just came for us…or should I say you, Agent Green."

"What the hell are you talking about, Fiona?" The agent at my side replies, and Fiona simply smirks, holding out the package wrapped in newspaper clippings.

"Merry Christmas," She says, and Dana just looks at her for a moment before taking it and setting it on the hood of the rental car I had gotten earlier that day. Taking a deep breath, she begins to unwrap it, revealing a long white box.

"Ten to one it's roses," Agent Green says quietly, before glancing at me. "Want to bet?"

"Against that guess? No, I'd end up owing you money," I reply as she opens it up and reveals…

…A single rose, thorns still attached, and a note. Dana reads it, shaking her head

"What's it say?"

"Read it." She hands me the note and abruptly turns away, her hands clenched into tight fists.

Welcome to my game, Agent Green. Hope you've fully recovered from that little 'incident' in Maine last year, because I want you to be in good health when I make my move! Say hello to Sam's inept knight in shining armor for me. I'll see you both soon!

JaCk

"Looks like I'm not the only one he's after now." I reply quietly.


	14. Default Chapter Title

The Fragile Pt

Yup, the 14th part has arrived… 

The Fragile Pt. 14

(Sam's POV)

It's getting dark again.

In a couple of minutes, Jack will probably make an appearance and gloat about how Bailey or the team hasn't been able to find any leads.

I'll ignore him, as usual, and try my best to piss him off. It's actually pretty fun, really, once you look past the fact he's killed forty some odd people. All he really is inside is a whiny little man with delusions of grandeur. 

Absently, my thoughts begin to wander on what Bailey's up to right now. Probably working his ass to the bone, like usual, and not getting any sleep. When (not if) he finds me, that's gonna be the first thing I'm going to say to him. Not "Bailey, thank God you found me," or "My hero!" but "Bailey, you look like hell. You need sleep." 

I begin to chuckle at that thought…me, for once, giving him orders instead of the other way around.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely heard the door open as Jack, as predicted, made his appearance.

"Still not hungry, I presume?" Jack only smiles and sets a plate of food down on the table as I glare at him. I know what he's trying to do, and it isn't going to work. He knows I know, but he's hoping that eventually I'll crack and at least accept the plate of food. Food laid out in front of a prisoner when they're hungry has been used as an interrogation technique many times before, and usually works within the first week or so. 

"You should set up your own psychic hotline, Jack," I replied, leaning back in my chair.

"I've considered running that scam before to get some victims, actually," Jack confessed, biting into a chunk of cheese. "But then I considered the fact that people might find the connection if they looked at phone records."

"Would have made it easier for us to catch you."

"And it would have ended my game prematurely, and I couldn't have that, Samantha. Oh, before I forget…another player has joined us in our game. Actually, two. You'll be meeting them both soon enough."

"And who would the two lucky contestants be?" Two? Which two? Angel? Francis?

"Now now…you know I can't spoil the surprise…they will be arriving in a couple of days, one of them quite unwillingly, I'm sure."

"Bailey's gonna kill you, you know. Your little game is going to end very soon." Jack laughed.

"You think so?" Waving his pointy finger in my face, he shook his head. "The game won't end until I say so. Every move Bailey has made so far has been too slow to catch me. He won't do anything different now."

"You're too full of yourself," I replied coldly. "Maybe you should give Bailey more credit."

"For what? He hasn't been the one profiling me. You have."

"That no longer matters. What matters is that you're now on borrowed time Jack and soon you're gonna have to pay up. I can almost guarantee that where you're going to be headed, it's going to be very, very hot."

"We will see if your prediction is true within a few days. I have to get your Christmas present ready…one I'm sure you'll enjoy. I know I will." Laughing at his little joke, he snatched up the plate and left the room, locking the door behind him.

If only my hate could kill…

**__**


	15. Default Chapter Title

Holy shit boys and girls…it's been ages. Was considering whether or not to post this part at all because it's a little odd. Anyways, you know the deal. Tell me if ya like it, tell me if you don't.

The Fragile Pt. 15

(Dana's P.O.V)

Entry # 265

December 22nd, 2000

There used to be a time when I welcomed sleep's embrace, when I loved having dreams. They freed me from my boundaries and even helped me figure things out.

That time has long since passed.

The same nightmare night after night has haunted me for a year. I've tried sleeping pills and not sleeping at all to make it go away, but nothing helps.Tonight it will be no different. I just hope Sam's having a better time sleeping than I.

-End Entry-

Sighing, I turn off my Sony Vaio and yawn, silently praying for a night of dreamless sleep. They're never answered, of course, but it helps to hope.

Hitting the play button on my CD Walkman, I begin to listen to Mudvayne. Around 'Internal Primates Forever', I begin to doze off…

…And once again I find myself hanging from a rusted pipe in that basement. The basement where Treadwell had raped and tortured his victims unmercifully. I can still smell that indescribable stench, which was a combination of shit, piss and decaying human remains that I knew were probably leftover trophies he had taken from their rightful owners.

My eyes catch the slight motion in the darkness behind the glaring light and my jaw tightens as I watch him watch me.

"I've had my eye on you for some time now, Dana…and I was surprised when they brought you here, brought you to me."

"They wasn't going to send me here originally…I requested it."

"Then I consider myself honored. Was my file a fascinating read?"

"I thought it was rather boring, really…I've read traffic reports that were more interesting."

"So I'm just your regular, run of the mill psycho, is that what you're getting at?"

"No…what you are to me is a soon to be dead body in the morgue."

Jacob laughed, and stepped into the light. His left eye glared balefully at me. His right eye he had sown shut himself during one of his more delusional periods.

"Well right now high and mighty agent bitch-" His right fist drilled me hard in the side "-I think you're too sure of yourself. Far too sure. Too bad I have to kill you in five days. You are rather…pretty."

"That compliment just warms my heart…but we'll see who walks out of here in five days…we'll see."

"What, you think to escape? So did the rest…and you know what happened to them."

I didn't reply as he walked out of my range of vision, soon coming back, caressing a whip.

"I've used this on every woman I've brought back here," Jacob sighed, almost lovingly. "I find that they don't like it that much, but they must be taught their place in society." Uncoiling it, he suddenly cracked it in the air not two inches away from my face.

"I was hoping you were going to say you were going to hang yourself with it."

"Now why would I want to do that?"

"After I'm done with you, you will."

"Is that right?" His voice had lowered, become more menacing. "I don't think I like your attitude."

-Kick-

The air whooshed out of my lungs as I took the blow, and I didn't have any time to recover before he punched me in the stomach.

Grinning weakly, I spat in his face.

"That the best you can do, fucker? Huh?"

Wiping his face with his sleeve, he glared at me and got up in my face.

"Don't mock me, bitch," Jacob hissed. "I can make every minute seem like an eternity to you."

"I doubt that."

"You want to make a bet? Let's play a game. I call it 'whipping 'til you scream.' Wanna play?"

"Gee, rather self explanatory…sounds like fun," I reply sarcastically. "If I beat the high score, do I get a plush bunny?"

"No…but I can tell you that you females really disappoint me. Supposedly you have a higher level of pain tolerance than men, but the results say otherwise."

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

Jacob walked to a spot behind me.

"I doubt it."

Getting the feeling he was going to begin soon, I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw as I heard him raise the whip high…

- Whoosh -

- And then bring it down-

_"- Run now (run away) get away from me (and don't look back) if I can get my grip I'll pull you (don't ask for help) down into the Hell I call my head you'll never get away (get off the cross)_

I sit down in my ugly place and (and save yourself) build walls out of fragments from my past of (run away it'll be okay) all the people that I needed and loved that walked away-"

Gasping for air, I ripped off my headphones and sat up in bed with my head in my hands.

_Bad dream?_

**You would know, **I replied grimly, turning off the CD player. **I've had them ever since you came to me.**

_The dreams aren't my fault,_ The voice accused. _They're trying to tell you something. Something important…_

**Like McDonald's is making their Extra Value meals cheaper?**

_Be serious._

**Well for Christ's sake I am, but what help are you?**

_You might have died alone on that cold cement floor if you hadn't acknowledged that I was a part of you, that I always have been part of you._

**Well I didn't see that I had a hell of a lot of choice at the time**_._

Of course you didn't, Dana, because you had never been so close to the brink before until that moment. Think about it; people claim they have life after death experiences, but what if all that is your sixth sense finally coming to life? Most people never have that chance Dana; you got that chance and you chose me: vengeance.

**Would you have had it any other way?**

_Not really…cause God only knows what you would've turned into if you had quit the Bureau and started preaching to the masses as a born-again member of the church._

**I don't think I would've been able to deal with myself if I had.**

_That's my girl._

Cutting the conversation short, I stretch myself to the full length of the bed and climb out, glancing at the alarm clock. It's four a.m. in the morning. Maybe they're all ready serving breakfast-

- _Doubtful -_

****

- But worth a try, I think back. **You know I think better on a full stomach.**

__

You're lucky you have such a fast metabolism, or else your ass would be constantly doing push ups, The voice replies before going silent. My hand instinctively reaches for my cell phone before I hesitate.

****

Should I call Dell?

__

He's probably up all ready. Why don't you?

****

Nah. He needs his sleep. I'll call him up later, see how the divorce proceedings went. I withdraw my hand andgrab the hotel phone instead, dialing room service and ordering about three platefuls worth of food.

__

Hungry, are we?

****

Well I told you I was, I replied as I got ready to take a shower, looking critically at my waist-length brunette hair. **You didn't think I was joking, did you?**

__

Well, no but…three plates?

****

What can I say…using you drains my strength, I reply dryly.

__

Not that God damned much.

Laughing to myself, I climb into the shower. As soon as the water nails my back I stifle back a groan.

__

It can't still hurt you, after all this time…can it?

"It's not physical pain…It's mental," I reply out loud through clenched teeth. 

__

Why haven't you told me?

****

Why do you want to know in the first place?

Because if I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked.

****

After he stopped beating me, my back was pretty well gone. There was so much blood and the skin…was all flaps. Jacob thought it would be fun to rub some salt in the wounds.

Felt like needles at first, then it just got progressively worse. That's when I started screaming, and I didn't stop for at least a day.

__

And he got what he wanted.

****

…Unfortunately he did. Turning off the shower, I got dressed and glanced at my reflection in the mirror.

__

You look like shit.

I look at myself carefully. Shadows around the eyes from lack of sleep, my face paler than normal, my mouth set into a semi-permanent frown of seriousness and determination, I had to agree.

"Why is it," I said softly into the silence, "that the most happiness I seem to get out of life now is when I use you?"

__

Unfortunately Dana, that's the price you pay.

****

Sometimes I think that price is too high.


	16. Default Chapter Title

Part 16 is here, folks, and right before the holidays too! Enjoy (or not.) Words in **bold** are this person's thoughts. Mulder doesn't belong to me, but boy oh boy I wish he did…(Grins goofily then slides to the floor)

The Fragile Pt. 16

Unknown POV

Unknown Place

5 PM

**I've got to stop them now. Right now. They're getting to close to the truth, and they must be stopped.**

I've got to call him.

My hand shaking, I dial the number he gave me and pray that he's there and in a good mood to hear what I have to say.

**They must be stopped…**

"What." His voice is soft, but menacing at the same time. I take a deep breath and begin to talk.

"They found something at the site today," I say shakily, running a hand through my black hair. "One of your boys left something there they shouldn't have, and it could implicate me! I want Bailey and Dana taken care of before they find out!"

"What makes you think they haven't all ready?" He replies, cool as a cucumber.

"Because if they had, I'd be in a body bag by now!" I hiss back.

"Maybe…or maybe they haven't found out that you're even connected to me yet. Maybe you're just paranoid," He insinuates. "That wouldn't surprise me. If they'll hire Fox Mulder, they'll hire anyone."

"I'm not paranoid! I know that sooner or later they're gonna find out, damn it! Now are you going to help me or not?"

"Well, I'll tell you one thing…my boys didn't leave that evidence there. I did."

A chill runs down my spine as I realize what he's saying.

"You set me up…you set me up, Damn it!" 

He laughs.

"On the contrary, I've just given you the power to bring Dana to me, as well as Bailey. Here's what I want you to do. Darrenjust called me. Both Dana and Bailey are still at the forensics lab. You are to meet them there, where you will surprise them. My boys have all that's needed. Then I want you to follow them to me, so that you can join me in my little gloating fest. In case you get lost, do you remember where I'm located?"

"Of course."

"Then you'd batter get packing…don't worry. By the time I'm done, Bailey and his new profiler are going to wish they never met us…"

He hangs up, and I begin to get my stuff ready. The last thing I need is to stay here and wake up tomorrow morning staring into the barrel of a gun, with lava red eyes directly above it.

Grabbing my car keys, I glance outside. Nothing moving on the silent dark street at the moment, I'm pleased to note. Throwing my stuff in my car, I pull out of the driveway, my heart beating fast, adrenaline making me shake. Finally, it was all coming to an end, and I, Section Chief Fiona Garciaparra, would give all of them what was coming to them…


	17. Default Chapter Title

A/N- Here it is folks- Part 17. I apologize profusely for taking so long, as well as for the plot holes you can fit the state of Texas through, but with a couple of deaths in the family, writer's block, dealing with bullshit from work and all the regular stresses of life I just couldn't write for awhile. I promise to you that if you ask for a sequel, it won't take nearly as long for me to finish.

As for the rest of the story- The ending itself is done, all it needs is a little editing. The ending was originally supposed to be part 18, but when I redid this part (my original version was something so shitty and terrible that only the writers of the last season of Profiler [and Steven Kronish] would have liked,) it was only at the end that I realized that I had started it from Bailey's P.O.V, had Dana's in the middle and the end as Bailey's once more. So I'm splitting that up into parts 17-19, and part 20 (Sam's P.O.V…she began it, and so it's only fair she finished it,) is the end. If I get enough reviews, I'll be sure to post quicker! J

The Fragile pt. 17

(Bailey's P.O.V)

"Bailey," A voice echoed from the darkness…"Wake up. C'mon, old man..."

"What the hell…?" Opening my eyes, all I saw was a blur. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Coming out of the lab with enough evidence to send Fiona away for awhile, then…nothing."

"It appears we were ambushed just like your profiler and your agent were," Dana muttered. I started to rise, but felt a hand firmly hold me down. "Don't try to get up. We got injected with some kind of muscle relaxant that's affected our legs. Plus with the shit they used to knock us out with…you'll feel like shit if you do, trust me. Wait for your vision to clear first."

"I take it you didn't?"

"…No comment."

I grinned faintly before replying. "Fiona?"

"She's here," Dana said flatly, "Wherever the fuck here is."

"What about Jack?"

"…Haven't seen him but I have a feeling that's going to change here shortly," she commented, her blurry shape becoming less distinct as she moved away from me. "I've heard…what your boy does to his victims. I'm not going to let him kill me, Bailey."

"Is there a way you can prevent him from killing me too?" I reply dryly, and she snorted.

"Which way would you prefer?"

"Personally, I'd prefer the way where we both get out alive, rescue Sam and make Jack pay."

"Don't forget our mutual friend Fiona."

"Her too." Fiona had a lot to answer for.

"I'd prefer that way too Bailey, but that wasn't what I was talking about and you know it."

"…I know."

We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence before Dana spoke again.

"So have you given it any thought?"

"You're a morbid one, aren't you?" Good, my vision's beginning to clear.

"Can't help it…sorry."

"…Broken neck."

"…That's how you want to go, huh?"

"Well I can think of a couple better ways but none of them are open to me at this point in time."

"Well, if it comes to that, I'll see if I can't…arrange it for you." Her voice had a chillingly sincere tone to it, and I knew she was being serious.

Figuring I'd change the subject, I asked her about her pain tolerance.

"Probably more tolerant than yourself," She yawned.

"You wound me."

"Sorry, but it's true, Bailey. You served in 'Nam, right?" Seeing me nod, she continued. "Do you know of any P.O.W'S that were repeatedly tortured and raped/sodomized with blunt objects?"

"…I can't think of any who survived torture like that, no."

"When they found me, I had lost so much blood that they gave me a ten percent chance of survival," Dana said softly. "My family, believing that I was going to die, had a priest give me last rites against my partner's wishes. He was the only one that believed I would live." Smiling faintly, she continued. "At the time, I wasn't too far away from becoming an atheist. I'm still not, really, because for every miracle that's performed, far too many atrocities take place."

"You don't have a very optimistic view on life."

"I used to have one, but not any more."

Hours passed in silence, and from the light snoring I heard over in the corner I could tell Dana was asleep. How she managed to do so, I'll never know, but whatever she was dreaming about, it wasn't pretty, with her muttering curses and calling out for her partner. 

Dana woke herself up fifteen minutes later, and yawned.

"We can't stand on our own."

"Probably won't be able to either, at least for a little while longer," Dana admitted, sliding herself over to the door. She tried to pull herself up, but her legs were uncooperative. Finally she gave up and sighed.

"This sucks."

I managed to bark out a laugh. "That about sums it up."

"You're God-damned-" Dana halted suddenly at the sound of voices in the hallway. One of them belonged to Fiona.

"Hey Fiona, come over here for a second!" Footsteps came closer, and I could see Dana smile faintly.

"What do you want?"

"Just wanted to let you know that when I get out of here, I'm putting your ugly ass in a full body cast…and I'll enjoy it immensely."

"Not if I put you in one first."

"We'll see, Fiona, we'll see. Hey, tell your buddy Jack I'm really disappointed with the accommodations. Are the other cells all filled up too, because if there's one with a good view and an actual toilet, I can think of two people that actually wouldn't mind being moved!"

"You have a smart mouth on you, Agent Green," Fiona replied coldly, her dark eyes glaring at the young agent with malice, "one that's going to get you into a world of hurt very soon."

"Promises, promises, Fiona," Dana laughed. "Why do you keep on making them when you can't keep them worth a shit? You've done that before, and you almost got Dell killed. I'm not giving you a second chance."

"I won't need one…I'll be back soon to come get you both. Jack wants to see you." She walked off, and Dana just shook her head, a forced smile on her face.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Dana said, beginning to bang her head repetitively against the wall. I nodded.

"They're not planning on keeping us around for very much longer-or at least Fiona isn't."

"Knowing her, she probably killed the lab techs and confiscated the tape leading to her involvement," Dana muttered again. "She'll cook up some bullshit story either saying we went off on our own to try to find your boy and we got caught and killed, or she'll somehow try to make herself look like the hero, 'find' this place and send in the troops, only it'll be too late for them to do anything…shit." She stared off into space, lost in thought. "I wonder if we'll see your profiler at Jack's little soirée?"

I didn't reply, but in my heart I was hoping to see her there, if anything else just to know she was still alive and okay.

As promised, about a half hour later Fiona returned with four men, none of whom Dana or I recognized, and with a gesture from the tall redhead they unceremoniously grabbed us by our arms and dragged us out of the cell. Five minutes later we were in a large room, surrounded by people we did recognize, if only by seeing the faces on wanted posters. Sam was nowhere in sight, and I felt my heart sink.

"This really isn't good," Dana muttered out of the side of her mouth. "Feel like I'm being turned into lion feed, know what I'm sayin'?" Unfortunately I did, because I felt the same way.

"Let us have him, Fiona," a man with a gravelly voice spoke up from the crowd. "You and Jack have what you want in your possession; give us what we want."

"That decision's up to Jack."

"Fucking Section Chief hanging with the felons," Dana shook her head at the betrayal. "Wonder how long she's been doing this?"

"Quite awhile, from everyone I've seen," I replied, studying our surroundings. Dana simply grunted, seemingly furious with how deep Fiona's betrayal ran.

A door opened from the left side, and in walked Jack, a grin of triumph on his face. His blue eyes revealed his scorn for us, and both Dana and I glared up at him angrily. He walked past us, and Dana frowned.

"I've seen him somewhere before," She whispered, frowning.

"Jack? When?"

"I don't know, it's seems fairly recent…but for some reason I can't remember."

When Jack stood in front of us again, still wearing that self righteous look on his face, he began to speak. "Welcome to my little hideout," he said with a smile. "Unfortunately for you both, neither of you will be leaving it." He stood in front of me, looking down at me like I was a pile of trash. "What Malone, no words of wisdom? No angry shouts of useless meaningless defiance?"

"The ass kicking you're going to be getting from me can't be put into words," I replied flatly.

"Is that so?" Jack said with a grin, coming closer to me step by step, suddenly lashing out at me with one steel-tipped boot. Doubling over, I could see Dana struggling to stand to face our tormentor, but failing. "Well how exactly do either of you intend on kicking my ass when you can't stand on your own two feet yet, hmm?" He laughed, sending chills down my spine.

"And you, Agent Green…you're just a sucker for punishment, aren't you?" Dana didn't reply. "You're silence wounds me, Dana…I was expecting a smart ass comment from you more than I was from Malone here."

"What can I say? I'm just full of surprises."

"Indeed. But you're not the only one who's full of surprises, Dana," he grinned. "For instance, I see that you don't remember me. That's a shame, it truly is."

"Sorry," Dana replied, "but you're the type of person who seems easily forgettable."

"Is that right? Well, let me refresh your memory…November 15th of last year. Ring any bells?"

Dana's face paled, but she said nothing.

"It does, doesn't it? I can see it written all over your face, Agent Green."

"You were there with him…there were two of you."

"Very good! Yes, I took a little break from my duties down here and went up to Maine to do some…tutoring of sorts. Didn't turn out all that well for Jacob though did it?" 

"I think I feel sick," Dana muttered, her face pale. Jack only laughed and knelt by her side.

"You're going to feel even sicker by the time I'm finished telling the story," He whispered into her ear with a smirk.

"I don't think this is wise," Fiona interrupted. "Let's just get on with it."

"Be silent, Fiona," Jack stood up and snapped, giving her one of his infamous ice-cold glares. "I'm in charge now and I'll make the decisions as to what's wise and what isn't."

Turning his attention back to Dana, he continued.

"The funniest thing about it is, all those women that died by Jacob's hand…they were just guinea pigs. You were the only target after all. Fiona here was in on it from the beginning, as she was the one who gave you the case in the first place."

"What are you doing Jack? You swore to me that my involvement would remain a secret!" Fiona shouted, striding towards him.

"For the last time Fiona…SHUT UP." The Section Chief stopped dead in her tracks, shocked at being spoken to like that.

"We're going to get Dr. Waters out of here, you know," Dana spoke, breaking the uneasy silence. "And after that, I'm going to kill you both." Her voice was steady and calm, and Jack studied her thoughtfully for a moment before replying.

"Not if you get killed first. Fiona-" She looked at him, a questioning glance on her face. "She's all yours." Fiona's face brightened instantly, and Dana warily watched her approach.

"Someone's story is going to end here, Dana," Fiona laughed as two men came forward and lifted Dana up. Her legs wobbled, still unable to hold her weight. "But it won't be mine."

"I wouldn't be so sure of yourself," Dana replied flatly. The two female agents eyed each other for a moment, mutual dislike shining in both pairs. Looking at Jack, Fiona smiled.

"Can I have some quality time with Bailey later on, Jack?"

"Maybe later, Fiona. For now, he's mine." Taking that as a yes, Fiona nodded and led Dana and her guards back the way we'd came. 

"What's the connection between Dana and Sam, Jack?" I asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

"Why would you even think there was one?"

"The only people you've ever gone after ever since Sam tied you to all those cross country murders have been people Sam's known or been connected to in some way, so how's Dana connected?"

"All the people I've KILLED have been connected to Sam."

"We'll you've played games with my agents in the past, Jack," I replied coldly, "But you didn't kill them."

"True enough," Jack nodded, walking around me, studying me as if I was a lab rat. "Well Malone, this time you're correct. There is a connection between Dana and Sam, other than the fact that they're both profilers. But you'll have to find out that connection on your own."

"Another game, Jack? Isn't it a little too late for that?"

"You should know me better than that by now, Malone…It's never too late for someone to play a game with the 'Jack of all trades'… 


End file.
